


Bucket and Pulley

by TheOneKrafter



Series: Reincarnation Fics [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Canon Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rebirth, Self-Insert, Self-Insert OC, The Ruins (Undertale), The Underground (Undertale), Weird update schedule, World Buildling, lore expansion, the surface (undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:45:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneKrafter/pseuds/TheOneKrafter
Summary: She was honest to god reborn into a fictional protagonist of a video game.That- was not a sentence she ever thought she’d be living.(or- one day a lonely adult turned ten-year-old slowly lets a bucket down into the ruins with a rope. When she pulls it up again, she got a response.)





	Bucket and Pulley

**Author's Note:**

> Over winter break I did a entire Undertale playthrough in a day, and when I went to sleep at five in the morning, this brainchild was messing around in my head.

Small fingers push the broken edge of a fence out of the way, and I huff a little at the weight I’m carrying.

Crouching and getting to the other side, I adjust the heavy, long rope looped around my shoulder, before continuing upward. The bucket on my other side clanks every other step.

Mt. Ebbott, the source of heavy tourism down in Resna city for legends. Legends about the ‘supposed’ sealing of monsters a millenia ago. Tall, green, and heavily fenced. 

It’s also popular for suicide. Hence the fences. 

I peer around the forest as I head up a old trail. It’s pretty, and some parts are open for nature walks and hiking, but not this trail. This side is abandoned and the grouping of cliffs higher up are great for… well. 

That isn’t why I’m here. 

I was born April ninth, 2008, in Resna. More specifically, the providence of Underlea ( _ironic_ ) in a country called Voatrem, named after a long dead general-king who I’m pretty sure instigated the monster human war historians still argue over.

However does a ten-year-old articulate and sarcasm so well, you wonder?

She isn’t actually a ten-year-old. She’s a former nineteen year old shoved in the body of a  _ video game’s _ main character. She’s been renamed after a cop sweeping for illegal shit, and she _ is not _ going to go by it.

The rope slowly makes my small shoulder ache as I walk, step by step, farther and farther up the mountain only stopping to get out my water a few times. Birds chirp, the sun shines through the roof of leaves, and the stick-strewn path crunches with my every step. It’s a nice day to tempt fate.

It takes almost an hour and a half to get to where I’m looking. A root edged and moth hanged chasm, with a far away, faintly yellow, bottom.

The entrance into the Underground. 

Dropping the rope, bucket, and my beat up backpack next to me, I set to work. 

I lug a sturdy looking tree limb and a couple sticks by my stuff, and plop down on the ground. Out of my bag I get a pocket knife and twine, setting them down again to fumble with the tree parts. 

The limb gets a new, sturdy arm that makes a V shape, and another to close the V off. The copious amount of twine I use to keep it all together is worth it, considering it’ll be able to handle pulling things up and slowly letting them descend down. 

Next, I sharpen the end of the wooden thing and stab it down in a small hole near the edge, then fill the hole with rocks and dirt. When I jiggle it a little and it doesn’t budge, I focus on the next part. 

Pulling more stuff out of my bag, I settle the items down in the bucket. A couple books I nabbed from school, a note, a few flowers…

I knot one end of the rope large enough to where it probably won’t go through the wood hole I made and after pulling the other end through said hole, tie said end to my bucket.

Behold!

A bucket and pulley! One that starts up conversation with Toriel. 

Because I’m lonely. Because I miss pieces of my old home. Because at least this will be familiar, dying again and again isn’t anything new.

Then, in a August Saturday’s sunshine, I send down something that’s completely new.

—-

_ Hello! _

_ Either this is just a random, large, hole in the ground, or I’ve found a entrance into the cavern monsterkind was forced into. In the case of you finding this, it’s most probably the latter!  _

_ My name is Mira. I have no clue if monsters still speak the same language as me, but on the off chance you do understand this, I’d like to immediately apologize for the grievances my ancestors inflicted on you all. What happened was one step up from genocide, and no matter how war is, sealing a whole race away is cruel.  _

_ Anyways, I’ve given you what I can. Some nice reads, a few pretty things I found, and a not nice drawing of the king I suspect ordered the sealing. It’s not much, but I guess something is better than nothing.  _

_ I’ll be back everyday I can to check if you’ve left anything to tell me you’ve seen this! _

_ Sincerely, Mira, a concerned human. _

_ (On the back is a unflattering picture of a black haired and scowling man with a crown on his head) _

——

The bike in my hands gently settles against the bedroom wall, and I peer around. 

It isn’t a terrible place to live, even if it is a honest to god orphanage. Sure, if I were a actual kid I’d be feeling pretty neglected, but with my weird mental age I feel mostly fine about being majority ignored by the staff. A small bookshelf is tucked into the corner of the room, filled to the brim with books on culture, history, and creative stuff. The bed near it is messy and unmade, random things strewn on it in organized chaos, like the rest of the room. The walls are a warm beige, the floor is dark hardwood, like the rest of the building, and the sole window gives a view of the alley below.

Lonely, but it’s home. 

Dropping my bag by my bed, I plop down onto it in a quiet huff. 

My plan has been acted on, and now I wait. 

A low groan escapes my lips, and I roll over to cover my face in my pillow. 

——

I slowly pull up the bucket, tiny arms straining only a little before the thing finally reaches the edge of the chasm. 

Quickly and carefully pulling it over to where I’m sitting, my eyes widen at the closed tin at the bottom, two books, and a note. 

Holy shit. She responded. 

Quickly pulling out the note and opening it, only one thought comes to mind. 

Of course she has pretty handwriting.  _ Of course _ . 

‘ _ Dear Mira, _

_ I am quite shocked by your gifts’ appearance! It has been a very long time since I have spoken to a human, and I had not realized our tale had faded so far into obscurity to have forgotten the King who fought against monster kind.  _

_ Ah! I apologize. I am too hasty. I am Toriel, keeper of the ruins, the area your bucket has found itself in. It is a pleasure to meet you- or, well, write to you. Once again, the appearance of your bucket has been quite a shock!  _

_ I do hope we may continue speaking. I have included two of my favorite books, written by monsters, inside your bucket, and a slice of pie. It is butterscotch and cinnamon, one of my favorites. If you do not mind my asking, what is your favorite pie? _

_ Sincerely, Toriel, a happy monster! _ ’

Standing up suddenly I do a happy dance while clutching the letter, grinning so wide it hurts and letting out a happy laugh. 

It worked! Holy shitaki mushrooms it  _ worked _ . 

Sitting back down again, I set the note/letter down next to me and look at the books. 

‘ _ The War Waged _ ’ by Hearthside Flamesman and ‘ _ Peek-A-Boo with Fluffy Bunny _ ’ by Angela Puff. 

Wait, wasn’t one of those in the actual game? Frick I dunno anymore.  _ The War Waged _ though,  _ that _ seems interesting. No doubt it’ll be better than what I’ve managed to scrounge up in history books and the internet. Direct sources are always  _ very  _ good for research. 

Setting those down too, I finally get to the tin and open it up. Inside is a divine smelling, perfectly sliced, piece of cinnamon butterscotch pie. 

This is going to be  _ great _ . That said, I pull  _ A War Waged  _ onto my lap and start reading, while eating some  _ amazing _ pie. 

‘ _ To preface, no one side is going to get all the details right. I was there in the fight and I still don’t think I know all there is to know about the conflict that shoved us monster folk into the Underground. That said, I’ve tried to get as many perspectives as possible on this from other vets, including King Asgore himself. That being said, from what I gather, it all started with a accidental skirmish between monster and human lands in the year 989, Common Era… _ ’

——

Days go by. 

‘ _ Dear Tori- can I call you that?-, _

_ I gotta say, my ancestors did you guys wrong. I’m to chapter eleven now of WW and the level of restraint Queen Aslana’s soldiers used is really commendable. Imagine how easy it could’ve been to take a soul from one of the humans and just wreck everyone? Not that I’d ever want that, but for strategy sake it would’ve seemed like a easy option.  _

_ I’ve sent down a big cinnamon bun for you to enjoy, since we’re doing a food sharing thing. I didn’t make it myself, but it’s one of my favorite brands to get at the gas station.  _

_ That sounds bad, but I swear it tastes good. Not as good as your pastries, but good.  _

_ For your last question about my book tastes, I included the first book in my favorite series. There’s magic, a boy who lived, dark lords, and so much more.  _

_ Now for my question- if you could be any animal in the world, what would it be? _

_ Ever Happily, Mira.’ _

School starts up again.

_ ‘Dearest Mira, _

_ Whatever do you mean by “they leave me be”? _

_ Apologize my frankness, but that is not how you take care of growing young. Why, if I could I would have a good talking to with these caretakers.-’ _

Things get… easier.

_ ‘Tori,  _

_ No, I don’t think that Harry’s cupboard bedroom is a very good example of how Humans treat their kids. I promise you, most do not abuse their kids. I’m sorry, but that made me laugh alot to read-’ _

\----

“ _ President Harland was quite clear in his speech about his opinion on investigating Mt. Ebbott, Professor.” _

_ The historian on the television only scoffs, cutting off the reporter. _

_ “And what does the President know about history, Mr. Klar? I’m sure he hasn’t gotten a PHD majoring in monster studies and minoring in archeology, or travelled to many sights around the world finding evidence that clearly supports the fact that we did engage in war with monsters- and that we did seal them underground like a bunch of troglodytes.” _

Well, he had the idea of it at least.

Rubbing my tired eyes I step out of the living room and start towards the kitchen. 

“Damn idiots! Why can’t they just leave our mountain alone!” Sophia yells from the room I left and I snort. The teen is hilarious in her love of our tourist attracting mountain. Hell, she’ll probably love it more when people start coming just to see the monsters. More folks to her to swindle, of course. 

_ That implies that you’re capable enough to save them nimwit.  _

How kind of you inner self hate, I’m having a lovely morning, thanks for asking. 

_ Your redirection does nothing to stop your own head.  _

Ever full of truth self hate. I’m going to eat a bagel now. 

Walking into the kitchen, I grab the bag of bagels and proceed to start toasting one. 

“Frisk, have you seen my shoe?” A voice calls from the hallway, and I don’t bother to look. 

“Check under your bed.” I call back, watching grimly as my bagel pops. 

Mornings are evil. 

Quickly scooping the round bread onto my plate I grab the butter and start putting it on. 

“Who the hell took my skateboard!” Comes from down the hall. 

A crashing sound. 

“Do you wanna fight Hal?! I’ll fight you!” Sophia yells back. 

I take a nice, wonderful bite of my bagel. 

“Keep it down! I’m trying to enjoy my sick day!”

“You aren’t even sick Jen!”

Bagels never yell, or shout, or throw things. Bagels are good. 

“I’ll show you sick, mouth breather!”

I put the butter knife I used in the sink and step out of the kitchen, quickly ducking out of the way of a book being thrown. Swiftly I open the front door and shut it, hearing a muffled angry shout behind me. 

At least life isn’t boring. 

——

_ Pounding. Beating in my ears and frantic eyes.  _

_ Shouting, he’s making demands, yelling about his right and his life and there’s already three dead, others injured. Sweaty palms wiped on light colored jeans and I chart the best action.  _

_ Wait for him to blow again and fall like I’ve been hit. Talk him down. Curl up in a ball.  _

_ Fingernails pressing into palms.  _

_ He’s close, I’m closer to him than most and at an angle. If I’m fast I could knock him down, if I stay low he might not shoot me quick enough. If I- _

_ Beat beat beat beat beat.  _

_ I started writing a last note on my phone when he came in with the gun. If I die, I already made a will too.  _

_ My throat aches with unshed tears, and in a spur of movement I make contact with his legs- _

_ Beat beat beatbeatbeatbeat- _

—-

I don’t know what happened after I died. There had been police outside and maybe, just maybe that tackle had been enough for the swat to rush in. He probably got caught. I was probably cremated and cried over and called some stupid hero. 

Truth is, I just didn’t want to see another person die a couple feet away from me. Not when there were kids in there, not another person dead because of inaction. I wonder if I was reborn because I did a good dead, or because I shouldn’t have? Maybe I’m just a fluke, a escaped soul in whatever system in place. 

Maybe. 

I don’t know though. I probably never will, at least not until this life is over. 

‘ _ Dearest Mira- _ ‘

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a woeful lack of self inserts in this fandom, excluding... reader inserts. No hate on that, but it hurts to see it when people mislabel them and I gotta filter them out of the self insert tag lol
> 
> Hope you enjoyed?


End file.
